Dead Man's Walk

Call was watching the tall Negress, Emerald. She stood by the four-poster bed, keeping her eye on the company. She wasn’t unfriendly, but she wasn’t familiar, either. She was wrapped in a long, blue cloak. Call wondered if she had a gun under the cloak, or at least a knife. He could see that she was protective of Lady Carey and the little boy; he would not have wanted to be the one who attacked them, not with Emerald there.

While he was sipping the last of his tea, he happened to look up and see the head of a large snake, raised over the canopy of the four-poster bed. In a second the snake’s long body followed—it was far and away the largest snake Call had ever seen. He looked around the table, hoping to see a knife he could kill it with, but there was no knife, except the little one they had used to spread butter. He grabbed one of the little stools and was about to run over and try to smash the big snake with it when the Negress calmly stretched out a long black arm and let the big snake slide along it. All the Rangers gave a start, when they saw the snake slide onto Emerald’s arm. Soon it was draped over her shoulders, its head stretching out toward the table where the tea had been.

“No cause for alarm, gentlemen,” Lady Carey said. “That’s Elphinstone—he’s Willy’s boa.”

“Only he’s too big for me,” Willy said. “Mamma and Emerald play with him now. Mrs. Chubb doesn’t care for snakes. She hides her eyes when Elphinstone eats his rats.”

Emerald walked over and handed the boa to Lady Carey, who let it slither over her lap and off under the table.

“I think he wants George,” Lady Carey said. “Cake crumbs don’t satisfy a boa, but I expect a smelly little beast such as George would be a treat.”

“But Mamma, he can’t have George!” Willy insisted. “He finds quite a lot of rats—I shouldn’t think he’d need to eat our dog.”

“Who knows what a boa needs, Willy?” Lady Carey said. “I’m afraid we’ve let all these beasts distract us. Willy and I want to go home, gentlemen, and the Mexican government has agreed to release us. What they won’t do is provide us with an escort, and we’re rather a long way from a seaport.”

“I’ll say,” Long Bill said. “It’s so far I wouldn’t even know which one to head for.”

“Galveston is the most feasible, I believe,” Lady Carey said. “I’d rather try for Galveston than Veracruz. If we travel through Mexico the greedy generals might decide they want more ransom—my father has already paid them a handsome sum. He didn’t pay it for me, of course—father wouldn’t waste a shilling on a leprous daughter. He paid it for the young viscount here. Willy’s the one he needs—Willy’s the heir.”

The Rangers listened silently to what Lady Carey said. Call looked at Gus, who looked at Long Bill. Brognoli continued to swing his head, and Wesley Buttons, who was a slow eater, was still consuming the last crumbs of one of the big scones with raisins in it. The others had accepted that the big snake was a pet, but Wesley didn’t trust snakes, particularly not snakes that were longer than he was tall. This one had slithered off somewhere, but it could always slither back and take a bite out of him. He was careful to keep both feet on the rungs of his stool, and did not pay much attention to the talk of ransoms and seaports. He would go where the boys went—he was happy to let them decide.

“Ma’am, we’ll be pleased to take you to Galveston,” Call said. “If we can find the way. It’s a far piece, though, and we’ve got no mounts and no gear. Our horses got stolen, and the Mexicans took our guns.”

“Fortunately, we aren’t poor yet, we Careys,” Lady Carey said. “I didn’t expect you to walk across Texas barefoot, in leg irons. We have our own mounts, and we’ll soon find some for you. You look like honest men—I’ll send you to town with enough gold to equip us properly. Don’t skimp, either. Buy yourselves reliable weapons and warm clothes and trustworthy mounts. We have a tent large enough for ourselves and Miss Roberts—but I’m afraid you men will have to sleep out, if it’s not too inconvenient.”

“We don’t know how to sleep no way but out,” Gus said. “If we can get some slickers and some blankets we’ll be cozy, I guess.”

Just then, the snake emerged and began to glide up one of the bedposts. Soon it disappeared, back onto the canopy over the big bed. Wesley Buttons cautiously put his feet back on the ground., “I expect it’s a little too late to send you to town today,” Lady Carey said. “Emerald, tell Manuel to get the irons off these men. I want them to get into town early tomorrow. I want to leave San Lazaro quickly—these greedy Mexicans might change their minds.”

“Come,” Emerald said. “We’ve fixed a room for you. The mattresses are just corn shuck, but it will be more comfortable than the place the Mexicans put you.”

When they left the room, Willy had seated himself next to his mother and was helping her select from a bunch of storybooks, piled beside the low settee where Lady Carey sat. She raised her head to them, as they left the room, but all they could see were her veils.

“I wonder how bad she is, with the leprosy?” Gus asked, as the Texans were following Emerald along the balcony to their quarters. “Wouldn’t it be awful if she didn’t have no nose?”

“Yes, it would be awful, but I like her anyway,” Call said. “She’s going to get us out of here. I never supposed we’d be this lucky.”

Gus thought of the long miles they had to travel, over the dry, windy country, to get even as far back as the settlements around Austin. It was a long way, even to the mountains where Josh Corn and Zeke Moody had been killed. And if they got that far, they would be in the land of Buffalo Hump.

“We don’t know yet if we’re lucky,” he said. “We got to go right across where that Comanche is.”

“It still beats being a prisoner arid wearing these damn chains,” Call said.

BUFFALO HUMP CAUGHT KIRKER, the scalp hunter, in a rocky gully just east of the Rio Pecos. Kirker had forty scalps with him at the time. Buffalo Hump judged the scalps to be mostly Mexican scalps, but he tortured Kirker to death anyway. The man had not been easy to take. He had managed to get in amid some rocks and delayed them a whole day, an a

Buffalo Hump did not like having to slow his raid to catch one scalp hunter, a man so weak that he only killed Mexicans and rarely even attempted to take an Apache scalp, or a Comanche. At first he considered leaving three men, to hide and wait. When Kirker thought he was safe and came out of his hiding place in the rocks, the men could kill him and then follow the raiding party south.Kicking Wolf, though, protested so vigorously that Buffalo Hump gave in. Kirker had killed two of Kicking Wolfs wives, and one of his sons; he had taken their scalps and sold them. Kicking Wolf was not a man who forgave or forgot; he wanted to take part in Kirker’s death. The Comanche moon had only just turned full—they could easily sweep on into Mexico and take their captives. Kicking Wolf even had an idea that would help drive Kirker out of his hole in the rocks, and he put it into practice at night, just before moonrise. He had his young warriors catch several snakes and tie their tails together so tightly that they couldn’t rattle well. Of course the rattlers’ heads had to be held down with a stick—they grew angry at the mistreatment they received. There were seven snakes in all. Once the seven were bound together by their tails, a young brave named Fast Boy climbed up on the rocks above Kirker and threw the bundle of snakes down on top of him. Kirker screamed when the first snake bit him—when he screamed, revealing his position, Buffalo Hump himself jumped down on him and knocked his gun away before he could kill himself. Fortunately, the snake had only bitten Kirker in the leg; the wound would not kill him, or weaken him enough to spoil the torture. Even before they got Kirker back to camp, Kicking Wolf, who could not be restrained when he was angry, poked a sharp stick in Kirker’s ear, destroying his eardrum and causing much blood to run out of his head. Kirker snarled and howled, like a tied wolf. He spat at the Comanches so many times that Buffalo Hump took a needle and a thread and sewed his lips together; after that he could not scream loudly, though he rolled and writhed and made gurgling sounds as he was being burnt and cut by Kicking Wolf, who insisted on doing most of the torturing himself. Some of the braves were in favor of saving Kirker; they wanted to send him back to the main camp, so the squaws could torture him. One squaw named Three Seed was better at torture than any man. She could bite off a man’s fingers or toes as neatly as if she were merely biting a willow twig.